Chapter 1296:
Cliff, ever composed, said, “Laney’s only twenty-three. There’s no need to rush into anything. We can revisit the topic of relationships later.”
Madison’s gaze flickered between the two of them. Something lurked beneath the surface, tugging at Madison’s intuition, though she couldn’t quite grasp what it was.
After dinner, as Cliff busied himself washing fruit and Laney retreated upstairs for a phone call, Madison huddled with her younger son and husband.
“I’d wager a hundred thousand that Cliff and Laney have rekindled their connection.”
Philip shook his head skeptically.
“Doubtful. If they’d reconciled, why would Laney maintain such distance from Cliff?”
Gerry abstained from the bet, his curiosity piqued by something else entirely.
“Has Cliff discovered some fountain of youth? He seems to have shed years from his shoulders lately.”
“It can’t be medicine—Cliff abhors the stuff,” Madison mused.
“He must have found something particularly rejuvenating.”
Meanwhile, upstairs, Cliff was indeed savoring something that brought him remarkable vitality.
“I can barely feel anything anymore,” Laney whispered, her head tilted back, a soft whimper escaping her lips as they tingled from his passionate attention.
When Cliff gentled his approach, she gazed at him with barely concealed longing, fighting the urge to beg him to continue—her pride wouldn’t allow him that satisfaction.
Lɒtєѕτ чhɒρτєrѕ ιn gɑl𝑛οvєlѕ.сo𝓂
Rather than withdrawing, Cliff selected a plump cherry from the fruit plate.
“Care for one?”
Her mouth parched from their kisses, Laney nodded eagerly.
The thoughtfully pitted cherries proved a sweet mercy, and she savored them one after another, relishing their cool juice.
“Aren’t you going to have any cherries, Cliff?” she asked, curiosity coloring her voice.
His eyes traced her curves with unveiled appreciation as he replied smoothly, “Oh, I will, but the cherries I desire aren’t on this plate.”
Laney blinked innocently, leaning forward to peer at his other hand.
“Where else would they be?”
The taste of Laney’s cherries lingered as Cliff pulled away, leaving Laney with tears streaming down her face.
His eyes swept over her with clinical precision before clicking his tongue.
“Why are you so sensitive? I wasn’t even going rough.”
Unable to curse, Laney could only meet his gaze, her tear-filled glare speaking volumes of unspoken words.
After a moment of gentle consolation, Cliff disappeared, returning with a band-aid in hand.
The constant friction from the fabric had irritated her skin beyond what simple ointment could heal, making the band-aid the more practical solution.
